The Nephilim Tree (Part 1)

by C. A. Smith

  “What do you think? As good as new.”

  Mrs. Roberts was impressed at his repair work. Not just because it was a very good job but also because she hadn’t seen any of the other priests carry out D.I.Y before and, not that she would admit it, but she never really imagined priests to be very able when it came to this sort of thing. Father Phillips seemed quite proud of his work and decided to celebrate his D.I.Y success.

  “Mrs. Roberts, I think it’s time we had a nice cup of tea!”

  Mrs. Roberts was sure now the builder genes were well and truly awake!

  The rest of the day at the church was fairly uneventful. The odd sinner repenting and clearing their conscience ready to make yet another attempt at facing the world sin free, until next week when they’d reappear fully laden with new sins again.

  During the late afternoon the rain finally ceased leaving a continual swishing noise as the car tyres from the beginning of the rush hour traffic run over the wet roads. It wasn’t long until the darkness had fallen and evening had set in.

  As the evening began Father Phillips stood in the open doorway of the church as he sometimes did watching the world go by. By this time most of the work traffic had dissipated leaving a few solitary commuters who had decided to do some shopping on their way home. Among them was a woman in her late twenties. She stood out to him above the other commuters due to her aimless walking. It somehow seemed less focused and commuter like than the other stragglers, but soon she had turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. Father Phillips was just wondering what troubles she may have held when another woman rushing past tripped on the pavement and, after correcting herself, looked around in embarrassment to see if anyone had noticed.

  ‘So many people, so many different lives’, he thought to himself. Before she had managed to disappear from his sight, his interest was attracted by another mini chapter of life. A small yellow car, driven by a teenage lad went past. Sitting next to him was a laughing young woman of equal age. They seemed happy in what was probably his first car. Father Phillips smiled as he saw their miniature Christmas tree with lights twinkling in the back window.

  Chapter 20

  The evening moved on into night and the same commuter who had earlier been seen walking past the church by Father Phillips now wandered slowly along the lit path through the empty park. Her head was down as she wandered aimlessly through the covering of mulched leaves. Her stance betrayed a heavy heart as she approached the nearby bridge that spanned the fast flowing river below. This was a picturesque stretch of water during the day, but brought a sense of unease at this time of the night. Only the white froth created by the fast flow could now be seen like a white net moving around in a black abyss.

  She stopped at the bridge and turned as though about to enjoy the view as most visitors do. However most visitors came here during the day to enjoy the view not in the middle of the night. She raised her head but her eyes remained staring into the blackness of the rushing water below. These eyes were certainly not taking in any beauty tonight. They were devoid of any happiness and the soul they provided the window to was equally weighed down. So many tears had passed from them that they were now left sore and dry. Each tear took with it a piece of her happiness. Now, no more tears, no more happiness. She just stared into the marbled darkness below.

  Her senses were so numbed by her heavy burden she was totally unaware of the man standing silently in the shadows only ten feet from her. Tears welled within his eyes as he watched. It was as though although deeply concerned, he was aware she must make her own decision as she stood at this crossroads of despair.

  He continued watching without movement and without her knowledge. A single tear finally released itself from its capillary hold and rolled down his cheek as he observed her slowly stepping up onto the sculptured stone plinth of the bridge and resting her hands on top of the ornate stone handrail. The stranger frowned whilst paying an unusual amount of attention to her right foot.

  As she leant ever further forward preparing to climb up, her right foot immediately slipped causing her withdrawn body to jolt forward toward the river below. She gasped, her reflexes took over forcing her hands to grab the bridge tightly. Within a split second her survival instinct had supercharged her muscles transforming her delicate feminine limbs into hydraulic rams that repelled her from the bridge. As quickly as her instincts had taken control, they handed it back again causing her to stumble to the floor. She lay there in a crumpled heap shaking and crying hysterically as the bolt of fear reminded her of what she was about to do.

  The stranger walked silently over and kneeled beside her. She was so distraught she didn’t question who he was or how he came to be in the middle of this empty park at this time of the evening. He spoke in a calm voice:

  “Everything is ok now. Sometimes within your lives you feel so alone. You feel the raw reality of life and the world feels empty, an empty abyss you see no way out of. No one seems to care, but things will change for you. You need to stay strong for just a little while longer.”

  Still crying hysterically she cried out, “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.”

  “I know you don’t. He wouldn’t want you to either. This is your life and you must live it.” He stroked her head and comforted her until she stopped crying.

  “Stay strong for just a little while longer.”

  He smiled, “I think it’s time for you to go home now. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” she whispered, only just holding back her tears. While still looking at the floor she climbed to her feet aided by the soft yet strong hand of the stranger. He put his arm around her and guided her away from the bridge and out of the park onto the main road. This was the road she’d wandered aimlessly up and down for most of the evening contemplating what seemed like her only release.

  She lost track of the amount of time they were silently walking until she felt the stranger release his arm from around her shoulders.

  “You’ll be ok Emma. Have a good sleep, things will feel different in the morning.”

  Still looking down, she noticed she was standing at her front door. By the time she had fumbled for her keys and opened the it the stranger had gone. Her ordeal had left her too tired and confused to investigate the matter further. Closing the door behind herself she walked slowly along the hall. The light was always on for security and as a welcome. Now back in the safety of her home she shared with Sarah, she made her way up the stairs. Sarah wasn’t home yet, which was just as well as Emma was in no mood to talk or even take off her coat. She reached the top of the stairs and walked directly to her bedroom where she lay sobbing until falling asleep.

  The night passed her by and was replaced by a ray of early morning sunshine shining directly onto her face through the window. Normally her curtains held back the morning sun from her easterly facing bedroom, but on this occasion they remained open. They were the last thing on her mind last night. On the floor beside her bed lay her crumpled coat she had somehow managed to shed during the night.

  As Emma opened her eyes her right hand instinctively lifted to shield them while allowing herself to gradually return to the conscious world. She rolled onto her back while swapping her hand for a bent elbow to shield the light of the sun from her face, not really thinking yet but just feeling. As she lay staring up at the ceiling, the brightness of the morning sun in her room lifted her spirits while she reflected on the previous night. The memory brought with it a mixed feeling of embarrassment and relief. She recalled how her foot had slipped and thought how things may have been very different if it hadn’t shocked her back into her senses.

  This morning felt different somehow from the numerous other mornings that followed her periods of depression. It made her feel lifted just as the man had told her. Emma frowned in confusion and sat up with both arms stretched out behind he on the mattress for support. The sun now shining directly into h
er eyes didn’t seem to concern her any more while the feeling of elevation halted for an instant. She remembered there was someone with her throughout the episode, a man. Somehow she couldn’t remember his face. He’d helped her home without once asking where she lived and he knew her name.

  “Why can’t I remember his face?”

  It dawned on her that not once did she look at him. She leant forward and wrapped her arms around her knees as she recalled the feeling of warmth and safety while in his company. Almost cuddling her folded legs, she placed her chin upon her knees while thinking about him. A smile grew on her face as she realized this was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  The Nephilim Tree (Part 2) is available for download now…

  Also by C. A. Smith

  Ripple

  Have you ever wondered how close you are to something amazing? What if you were to change just one thing in your day, what then?

  John Chapman was an average man with an average life. One Monday morning, like many of us, he decided to ignore his alarm. The monotony of the working week could wait for a few minutes longer.

  A door was creaking open. The unusual series of events that were about to follow would turn his life upside-down.

  At first he began to doubt his memory, then it was his sanity.

  How can an event witnessed by so many people just disappear from their memory as though it never happened and why was John now the only one who could remember it?

  There is a world out there waiting for you. Maybe just one small change will open doors you never thought possible.

  Next time you reach for the snooze button listen for the creak.